


making the best of a sucky situation

by GlassRain



Category: Leif & Thorn (Webcomic)
Genre: Bilingual Character(s), Class Differences, Consentacles, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pool Sex, Spitroasting, Transformation, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassRain/pseuds/GlassRain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorn, temporarily, has tentacles.</p><p>Leif has a kink for tentacles.</p><p>Leif also has a way to lock the pool so they won't be interrupted . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	making the best of a sucky situation

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the stupid title pun, titles are hard.
> 
> These characters are the main shippable duo from the webcomic Leif & Thorn (http://leifandthorn.com/). The accidental tentacles are canon!
> 
> Here's Thorn with tentacles: http://leifandthorn.com/comic/i-got-eight-problems-727/  
> Here's Leif when he's blushing: http://leifandthorn.com/comic/homecoming-1024/
> 
> (also canon!Thorn is all "no romance, only Knightly Duty" now, but shh let's ignore that for the sake of xeno pool sex.)

Leif got to the gates of the embassy pool just in time to activate the Serious Lock. The culture minister's daughters tried to open it, banged on the wall a couple of times, complained to each other about how nobody had put a reservation on the pool schedule, then wandered away.

"It's okay, sir," he told Thorn, once the children were out of earshot. "They're gone. Your secret is safe."

It was taking extra effort for Leif not to stare at the handsome foreign knight. He was easy on the eyes at the best of times. Without his tunic, he was only wearing a tight black shirt that showed off his toned arms and clung to the lines of his torso. And then . . . there were the tentacles.

A misdirected transformation spell had turned Thorn into a creature right out of Leif's secret favorite trashy comics.

"Wow," said Thorn, in his accented Sønska. The pool water around him rippled as the tentacles undulated beneath the surface. "Was that another servant? Is that why you can keep them out?"

"It's not that. There is a . . . special lock," said Leif cautiously. He had to be explicit enough that the Ceanska man got his meaning even across the language barrier, but not so explicit that it was inappropriate. And he'd already crossed a line with Thorn earlier, asking too many questions about his scars. "Some of the officials use it to protect their privacy, so they can use this pool for . . . special times. With each other."

"Ah." It was hard to tell on Thorn's warm tan complexion, but Leif thought he was blushing. "Special private times. I understand."

Thorn, for his part, was relieved about the extra protection for more reasons than one. Technically he was trespassing on foreign grounds (foreign waters?), even if it was only to soothe his unexpected new limbs. And those limbs were _awkward_. Less so in the water, but he'd been a lumbering joke trying to walk on the things.

Bad enough looking awkward when it was just Leif around. Maybe Thorn was just being vain -- Leif was a sweetheart, wasn't going to judge -- but he had the reputation of the country to keep up, dammit. A knight of Ceannis wasn't supposed to look ridiculous while on-duty!

Also, to be honest, maybe he didn't want to look too ridiculous in front of Leif.

Thorn flexed his tentacles carefully, using each one to feel the tender underparts of the next and make sure they hadn't been too torn-up by the ground. Nothing hurt too much, so that was good, right? On the other sucker, they felt a little . . . slimy. Was that just the water? Was it how healthy octo-flesh was supposed to feel?

Thorn lifted one tentacle out of the water and wrapped the end around his forearm. His new skin was smooth on the underside, around the suckers . . . rough along the top, almost like the texture of his burn scar . . . and definitely slick from more than the pool.

"Leif?"

The gardener jumped. "Yes, sir?"

Thorn wished he knew how to reassure Leif more. Even if the nervousness was . . . well, cute. "Is not needed to call me 'sir'. This pool has good cleaning, right? It must have, if the people use it for, ah, special private times. Right?"

"Very good cleaning, s-- Thorn. Why?"

"I'm . . . um . . . " The phrase _I'm secreting something_ was way outside Thorn's vocabulary. "Come and feel."

Controlling the tentacles was a lot easier than Thorn would have predicted. It reminded him of the way he had learned to use a sword, thinking of it as an extension of his own limbs until he could move like a man with a natural extra-long arm. So right now he had six natural extra-wiggly arms. No big deal.

Leif had been keeping his own body under control pretty well, he thought, until Thorn used one coiling tentacle to beckon him closer.

He knelt on the stone at the edge of the pool and touched the violet skin with a fingertip. It wasn't enough for Thorn, who curled the whole tip of the tentacle up against Leif's palm. Oh. Oh dear. It was _slick_.

"I didn't know that would happen," said Thorn apologetically. "The pool can still clean it . . . ?"

"Yes," breathed Leif. He couldn't meet the knight's eyes, but his hand, almost all by itself, closed around the tentacle and slid up its length. His thumb brushed along the side of a row of suckers; he could feel thick muscles flexing under the skin.

Thorn hadn't realized these things were _sensitive_. Leif's hand set off a completely different sensation than his own had: a low tingling feeling skittering up the limb, a flush of warmth against the cold water.

They weren't . . . sexual appendages. Not unless he had completely blocked out a chunk of his high school marine-biology class. (He was trying not to think too much about what had happened to his original sexual appendages. They would return when he transformed back, dammit, and that was all he had to worry about.)

But Thorn was definitely getting a charge out of this that Leif would not appreciate.

. . . Unless Leif _would_.

He really was cute. With that silky dark hair, and ruby eyes that were pointedly looking at anything but Thorn, and pale skin flushed almost to the tips of his pointed ears.

Thorn wrapped the tip of the tentacle around Leif's fingers -- the closest he could get to holding hands. "Do you like this?"

It was so quiet, Leif wasn't sure he'd heard right. Did he like it? He _loved_ it. He was going to dream about it later, and wanted to savor every moment of the sensation, to keep the dreams rich as long as possible. "I don't mind."

He didn't notice the second tentacle until it rested gently against his cheek. "But do you _like_ it?"

The small hopeful noise that came out of Leif's throat needed no translation. He leaned into the touch, lips parted, wanting Thorn to push into his mouth as deep as he could take it. Which wouldn't be all that deep -- unlike fantasy tentacles, these ones weren't conveniently cock-sized all the way to the base -- but the sheer solid reality of it was enough to make his head spin.

Thorn twined another tentacle around Leif's free wrist, so both hands were clasping a curve of the muscle holding them in place, and traced Leif's bottom lip until the gentle softness of it was unbearable.

Leif stuck out his tongue to lap at the violet skin, then fell forward and took the whole tip in his mouth, eyes fluttering closed so he could revel in the taste.

He was _stunning_ like that, arms bound, face obediently relaxed. And the sensation of being licked by him made Thorn dizzy. If this kept up . . . 

Pushing his torso upward with the tentacles he was still standing on, Thorn grabbed Leif's tunic with both hands and pulled him downward. The tongue-teased tentacle pulled out and curled around the back of Leif's neck, giving him a split second to moan in surprise before Thorn claimed him in a mouth-on-mouth kiss.

It was good. So good. Instead of taking the edge off, it only made things hotter.

Thorn's other limbs thrashed under the water, too keyed-up with eagerness to be held still. He liked to flex his strength in bed, and the tentacles had so _much_ of that. It would be so easy to drag Leif into the water, spin him around like a rag doll, use all eight appendages to strip him out of his soaked clothes . . . 

Leif wrested his lips away from Thorn's -- uh-oh, maybe Thorn was moving too fast, maybe the gardener just had a kink for tentacles and it didn't extend to making out -- but no, Leif didn't even try to free his arms, just held his head at a careful angle and said, "Will you take off my glasses before they fall in the water, please?"

Sure enough, the black-framed glasses were slipping down his nose. Thorn lifted them off his face and folded them carefully, using both hands, glad he didn't have to let go. "You like that too? Yes?"

"It's very good, s-- Thorn."

"I . . . I want . . . " He knew his fair share of dirty jokes and filthy come-ons in Sønska, but not the polite conjugation of _may I pick you up, take off your pants, and fuck your ass with this, please?_ "I want to -- do things to you. Is it okay? What do you like?"

He felt Leif full-body shiver . . . and that loose white tunic didn't entirely hide the tenting fabric in the man's lap. "I like -- I -- to be honest, sir? To be very honest?"

The hesitancy was sweet -- and endearing -- and not a good thing, not now.

Thorn stroked one of Leif's flushed cheeks with a tentacle-tip. Regular yard work meant the man's palms were rough and calloused, but the skin here was soft and delicate to the touch.

"I want you to be honest," he said, fighting the tense hum of arousal in his limbs, the better to hold Leif's hands and face as gently as he could. "I can only do things you like for real, you see? It doesn't matter that I'm a knight. So be honest with what you like, Leif. Okay?"

His vivid blue eyes gazed straight into Leif's. He was so concerned, so intense . . . lining up a lot more Sønska clauses in a row than he usually managed . . . all to make sure Leif knew he had the option to _turn down_ hot foreigner tentacle sex.

The tentacles clutching Leif's wrists let go as soon as he tried to move his hands. He leaned forward, holding on to Thorn's shoulders to keep himself steady as he bent over the lapping waters of the pool. Anything they did would be secure and private -- the Serious Lock didn't come undone for anything less dramatic than the embassy being bombed -- but for effect, he put his mouth right up to Thorn's exotic curved ear, and whispered:

"As long as you fuck me deep enough I will be happy with _anything_ you do to me."

Thorn let out a ragged groan, breath hot against Leif's neck. The next thing Leif knew, his tunic and shirt were being dragged roughly up his body -- and a tentacle was feeling his stomach, suckers pulling at his skin, ropy muscle there to support him when he jerked in surprise so he didn't go splashing into the pool.

Getting their clothes off without anyone getting soaked was a scramble of hands and coils. Leif's tunic ended up in a pile on the stone, his glasses resting on top of it, along with the hair tie which had come off in the fuss. He pulled at Thorn's tight black T-shirt, hesitated -- what if the other man didn't want it off? What if he had other scars, worse than the burn? -- so Thorn hooked a tentacle under the rim of the shirt and pulled it over his own head, along with some kind of pendant that had been under it, around his neck.

His thick wavy hair tossed as it came free of the fabric. Leif's position was precarious -- he was trying to kick off his shoes at the heels, whilst just-barely balanced on his knees at the edge of the pool -- but he surged forward anyway, leaning on Thorn's shoulders and burying both hands in those beautiful curls, trusting the knight to hold him up.

Leif went for another kiss whilst Thorn's hands found their way to his waistband. He palmed Leif's cock through the fabric, then let his fingers do the delicate work of unbuttoning while his tentacles clasped Leif by the waist.

"I can touch you too," panted Leif, sliding one hand down the front of Thorn's chest while his hips pumped all by themselves. He traced the fine line of the scar where Thorn drew his heartsword, pressed against sturdy abdominal muscles, and came to a stop just below Thorn's navel, where the brown skin mottled and started to go purple. He didn't know how octopi liked to be touched, but he was willing to figure it out.

"No, shhh, don't."

"It's okay -- I mean -- I want to."

Thorn muttered something in Ceanska -- then shoved Leif's pants down over his hips before he could ask for a translation.

Two tentacles coiled around his thighs, a third caught the pants and pushed them back farther, and suddenly Leif was off the ground. Thorn's arms wrapped around his chest, and they fell together -- practically a chaste hug from the waist up, at the same time as slick wet limbs were holding Leif's legs, spreading them open, giving another tentacle easy access to leave sucker marks on his sensitive inner thighs and the curves of his ass.

Leif clung to Thorn's torso, head hooked over Thorn's shoulder, back arching madly as he tried to get some friction on his aching cock. Oh, stars, he was being held up by tentacles. Manipulated and toyed with by tentacles. He was the helpless plaything of a strong, merciless, sex-hungry tentacle monster.

Water washed around them as the monster sloshed away from the edge, erasing all chance of Leif getting back to solid ground on his own without a good dunking. He squeezed his eyes shut, moaning in desperate arousal. The tip of a tentacle was slicking up his cleft -- it would thrust inside him any second now, whenever it wanted to --

"You want this?" murmured Thorn in his ear.

"Yes!" wailed Leif, nails digging into Thorn's back as his whole body convulsed with need. Had he not made it obvious? Why was Thorn _teasing_ him when he could be _fucking_ him?

Okay, it would have stroked Thorn's ego to hear some begging, but the desperation in Leif's voice convinced him not to push it. Not like he would have lasted long anyway. He hadn't realized Leif was so _gropeable_ , and the way the man responded to every touch was delicious, and it was as if Thorn had half a dozen hands to feel up all of him at once . . . 

He pushed into Leif's hole, reveling in the rush of tight hot sensation, in the way Leif squealed with delight as the thrusting in his ass shoved him against Thorn's chest.

Thorn pushed a little farther with each thrust, and Leif choked out a faint "so big . . . !" even as his body relaxed and opened for it. The tentacle widened so fast -- it swelled to the girth of Leif's thigh not far above the tip -- too big to deliver the deep fucking Leif had dreamed of, but even with shallow thrusts it would become the fattest thing he'd ever taken, and from the arching and the keening he was obviously okay with the tradeoff.

Leif's head was still over Thorn's shoulder, so Thorn flopped around blindly with a tentacle behind his back until he found Leif's gasping-open mouth. "Oh, yeah, you want this," he crooned -- in Ceannic, he didn't have the dirty-talk skills in Sønska. "You were so eager to lick at it earlier, weren't you, really wanna have something in your mouth, huh, babe? You wanna take it from both ends, right? Be spit-roasted by a couple of giant fuckin' tentacles?"

Even with all the wriggling, it was child's play for Thorn to line him up and shove his jaw open wider, pushing inside, pistoning him from one tentacle onto the other. For a second Leif gagged on it -- Thorn eased up, not wanting to break him -- then Leif started trying to lick and suck at his flesh again. Either the man had an oral fixation or he was the world's most considerate tentacle sex toy, and either way it was fucking exhilarating.

Not exactly the same as a blowjob -- Thorn didn't know what he had right now, sexual-organ-wise -- all the physical rush of arousal was buried somewhere under his skin. But his brain was the same. His turn-ons were the same.

So the mental image of Leif bobbing just as eagerly on his cock (once he got it back) made him shudder so hard the water sloshed around them.

If Thorn's new muscles were as tireless as his imagination, he would have kept Leif suspended for hours. Working his ass until he was able to take more tentacle than he could have dreamed possible, edging him back whenever he got too close to orgasm. Or maybe letting him come, and then rocking him gently, the tentacles still seated inside him, until he was ready for a second round.

Instead, his arms and tentacles alike were going to wear out if he tried to keep this position much longer.

Without warning, Thorn shifted his grip on Leif's thighs and swung Leif's hips down to meet his own, holding them so Leif's knees bent and only his feet skimmed through the water. A yelp of surprise was muffled by the tentacle in Leif's mouth -- Thorn slid it out, then let Leif rock back so their eyes could meet. Leif's legs were wrapped around his waist, rock-hard cock squashed against his stomach, ass splashing the surface of the water.

The stretch felt so good. Thorn groaned, arched, switched to fucking Leif with another tentacle so he could get all his desperately-needed flexing without having to stop. "This is good, yes?" he panted in Sønska.

Leif's eyes were glazed, limbs trembling, voice hoarse and faint. "This is fucking incredible."

Then he bumped his forehead against Thorn's, nuzzling clumsily against Thorn's face.

That was an invitation to a sloppy kiss if ever Thorn got one. (Secondhand tentacle slime was salty and briny and, hmm, not bad.)

In this position Thorn could be so much lazier, aiming one tentacle straight up, then hefting Leif's body upward and letting gravity shove it back down onto him. He was starting to hear a new tenor in Leif's moans, feel a change in the way Leif's body clenched down on him . . . Thorn slowed down, wanting to draw this out as long as possible, just in case it was all about the tentacles and Leif would stop being interested once they were gone . . . 

He didn't get away with it for long before Leif began rocking against him, hips moving almost on their own. When the begging started, Thorn caught most of the words, and context made the rest clear enough: "Please, sir, please, please let me come -- I need you to touch me, I need a tentacle on me, wrapped around my cock, sucking, pulling -- I said you could fuck me and that would be enough, but it isn't, I need, I need, please --"

"Shhh." Thorn braced a tentacle around the small of Leif's back, freeing up his hands to cup Leif's face and grab handfuls of straight dark hair, while another tentacle snaked in between their torsos. "It's okay, babe, I wouldn't leave you hanging. I'm gonna take care of you."

Glistening with sweat, quaking all over, Leif nodded.

With a little dexterity Thorn wound the limb around Leif from balls to tip, trying to memorize the texture as it felt against tender suckers and rough foreign skin. He pumped at Leif's cock with a coiling, rolling grip. Leif's eyes had gone so wide his pupils were pinpricks, breaths thin and strained -- then he was clapping a hand over his own mouth to muffle a cry, as his cock jerked in Thorn's grasp and spurted, once, twice, forceful enough to leave spatter on the back of his hand and the lines of Thorn's jaw.

Leif slumped, spent, into Thorn's multi-limbed embrace.

Thorn tried to lower them both a foot or so into the water, to clean off . . . and only realized how much he was still trembling himself when he nearly slipped and dumped Leif into the pool.

One of Leif's hands found its way to Thorn's hair, fingers toying with the dark brown curls, whilst Thorn held him close and sank carefully down. "That was s-so good . . . "

"Yeah?" Thorn kept the one tentacle filling Leif's ass, and indulged himself with the others by feeling up Leif's smooth calves.

"Yes, sir." It was taking a visible effort for Leif to talk, instead of fully surrendering to the urge to snuggle. "You didn't come? Want you to come. Wanna touch you . . . is it okay?"

His earlobe was close enough to suck on, so Thorn did. "Is nothing to touch," he confessed, between licks. "Not right now."

True, there was _something_ nestled between all the tentacles where they joined his body. But it felt more toothy than sexy. The last thing he wanted was for Leif to go groping around, trigger a gag reflex, and have Thorn accidentally bite off his hand. Or . . . something other than a hand.

He didn't know how to translate _gag reflex_ , and that part was too complicated for Leif to guess. At least it was dead obvious that Thorn wasn't as calm as he was trying to appear. The shifting restless limbs, the heat rising from his cheeks, the unfocused blue eyes . . . even Leif could see he was still desperately turned-on, and Leif had just been slammed by an orgasm so intense he was still seeing _stars_.

Was there something he could do? What did Thorn like? Normally he tried to pay attention, but he had been too preoccupied with being tossed around and well-fucked and indulged in his wildest kinks . . . 

He was still floundering to think about it, and cuddling Thorn in the meantime, when Thorn's communication crystal went ding, signaling that one of his colleagues was trying to get in touch.

 

. . . 

 

Leif dried himself off as best he could with the pool towels, got dressed, and went to get the anti-transformation potion. If Juniper wondered why his hair was still damp and messy, they didn't ask.

The reversal of the transformation was seriously painful. When the dust cleared, Thorn managed a quiet internal cheer at having his dick back, crawled into his new pants, then had to lie down on one of the lounge chairs and catch his breath.

Leif brought him a glass of (fresh) water.

"The privacy lock is still on, s-- Thorn," he said modestly, crouching next to the chair, fingers brushing suggestively against Thorn's hip. Disheveled hair and a conspicuously careful way of walking were the only signs of how enthusiastically he had been riding a tentacle fifteen minutes earlier. "If I can do something for you . . . ?"

"Don't worry about it." Thorn squeezed Leif's hand. How did you say _all the ouches just then kinda killed the mood for a while_ in Sønska? "I, um . . . I need rest, right now. Not sex."

"Of course." Leif hesitated. He could see that it was true; he just wasn't sure if it doubled as a way for Thorn to brush him off. "Sir . . . "

"Yes?"

"That was . . . amazing. So if you were just indulging me, because you had a one-time chance to give me the tentacle sex of my dreams, that's more than enough! It was wonderful and incredible and the hottest gift I've ever been given." Leif was blushing, staring at some vague point on the pool walls instead of meeting Thorn's eyes. "But if you weren't just indulging me . . . if you want to do more . . . I can go anywhere after work, as long as I'm back here and weeding by nine in the morning."

Thorn's already-strong grip tensed around his fingers. "You don't like only the tentacles?" he asked, sounding oddly shy for a man who could slay dragons and cut down marauding hellhounds with a single stroke.

With a grunt Thorn sat up, waited for Leif to look at him, and touched their foreheads together. Leif's glasses were back on; the kiss he went for was so tender, so gentle, they didn't even get jostled.

"Come to my home this evening," offered Thorn. "It'll be good. You can tell me more sexy words in Sønska."

Leif giggled. Stars, he was _so_ cute. "I would love to help you with that."

"And I can . . . I will . . . " Thorn wanted to say something about making sure Leif was taken care of, but couldn't remember the phrase. Hadn't he used it before? . . . No, wait, he had fallen into Ceannic when he said it. Without even noticing. "Leif? I said things to you, in Ceannic, when I had a tentacle in you . . . "

Leif nodded. He had an arm across Thorn's lap now; Thorn's legs were still sore, but he found he didn't mind the contact.

"One time, you, ah, you nodded the head? At the Ceannic. You understood?"

A lot of what Thorn had said was blurred in Leif's memory by the haze of arousal, no matter what language it had been in. Still, he thought he remembered what the knight was talking about. "I'm sorry, no, I didn't understand the words. I just thought . . . since it's you, it had to be something sweet."

Thorn looked flustered, but not in a bad way. Not with those sparkling eyes. "I . . . I tried to say: not to worry, I will take care of you."

Leif beamed. "See there! I knew it. Sweet _and_ hot."

He already couldn't wait for it to be evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr for reblogs and pretty things: http://glassrain83.tumblr.com/


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